


On the Case

by bayoublackjack



Series: Love in London [8]
Category: Elementary (TV), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Multiple Crossovers, POV Molly Hooper, Platonic Sex, Post-Reichenbach, Sherlock Holmes & Molly Hooper Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-31
Updated: 2014-07-31
Packaged: 2018-02-11 04:42:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2054058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bayoublackjack/pseuds/bayoublackjack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Molly never considered the other Sherlock as anything more than a friend, but with such a convincing arguement maybe it's time for her to reconsider.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On the Case

Molly stifled a yawn as she let herself into her flat.  It had been a long day in the morgue and all she wanted to do was curl up with Toby and watch a bit of telly before bed.  As soon as she stepped inside, she knew something was amiss.  For starters, Toby usually greeted her when she got home and he was nowhere to be seen.  And she was certain that she had switched the kitchen light off before she left for work that morning.  She fished her mobile out of her pocket in case she needed to ring 112 and shifted her key between her knuckles to use as a weapon, then crept quietly to the kitchen to investigate.

“No need for alarm.  It’s only me,” Sherlock said.

“Sherlock!”  Molly clutched her chest and exhaled sharply when she saw the middle Holmes brother.  “You gave me a fright!  What are you doing here?”  She paused and took in the scene.  Sherlock was seated at her kitchen table with Toby in his lap.  “Did you break into my flat?”

“I did plan to wait outside,” Sherlock explained with air of nonchalance.  “But your friend here was alerted to my presence and kept mewing at the door.  So I took the liberty to let myself in.”

Molly huffed softly and dropped her bag and keys on the table.  “You can’t just come and go in other people’s space as you please.”

“Apologies.  Watson says I need work on my boundaries.”

“Yes!  You do,” Molly responded crossly.  “What if I had been sleeping or showering?”

“Nonsense.  I memorized your schedule,” Sherlock retorted.  “Even with endless variables to consider, you, Molly Hooper, are a creature of habit.”

“I can be spontaneous,” Molly protested.

“Undoubtedly,” Sherlock replied.  “Care to have an opportunity to prove yourself?”

“What sort of opportunity?” Molly asked suspiciously.

“I’m working a case,” he explained.  “One that requires your _unique_ perspective.”

“My perspective?  What do I have to do?”

“I’ll tell you along the way,” Sherlock said.  He set Toby on the ground and stood up.  “Are you in?”

Molly hesitated for a moment while she weighed her options.  She stared at Toby, who meowed and circled her legs.  Curiosity was going to be the death of her.  “Yes.”

“Good.”  Sherlock bounced on the balls of his feet.

Molly had been tired before, but she supposed the combination of shock and inquisitiveness had given her the strength to press on.  She followed him down to the street and inside the taxi he had hailed for them.  After a short trip, that probably could have been made on foot, the car pulled over and Sherlock paid the driver.

“Here we are,” he announced, climbing out ahead of her.

Molly frowned once she saw where they were.  “A pub?” she questioned as she followed him inside.  “What sort of case requires a trip to the pub?”

“Your case,” he answered.  He removed his scarf and took a seat.  “The case of the lonely pathologist.”

Molly remained standing.  “What?”

Sherlock gestured for her to sit and she kindly obligated, against her better judgement.  “Has anyone ever told you how fascinating you are?” he asked.

“Are you having a laugh?”

“No,” he replied seriously.  “In the short time we’ve grown to know each other, I’ve learned a considerable amount from you.”

“You mean the experiments?” she asked.  “They’re nothing special.  Anyone could do it, but they do seem to help keep your brother and you out of trouble.”

“And my brother’s wellbeing is of great concern to you.”

His words were more of a statement than a question, but Molly still felt it necessary to respond.  “Well, yes.”

“Hmm.”  Sherlock rested his arms on the table in front of him and clasped his hands together.  “How long have you been in love with him?”

“What?”  Molly’s face burned hot and she was sure that she was nearly as red as her jumper.  “I don’t…I’m not…”

“Are we going to continue the charade or shall we have a frank discussion like two adults?”

Molly took a calming breath.  “There’s nothing to discuss.”

“We need to discuss a plan of action,” Sherlock told her.  “A situation has arisen.  You have fallen for my brother, a man with the romantic proclivity of a ground sloth, which incidentally is an extinct species,” he said.  “The way I see it, this can end one of two ways.”  He held up two fingers.  “You can tell him how you feel and be rejected or suffer in silence.  Either way, your emotional wellbeing takes the brunt of the force.  So I propose an alternative option.”

Molly stared at him not quite sure what to expect.  Thus far, she hadn’t confirmed or denied the allegations, but there wasn’t much point to denying it now, was there?  “What option?” she asked.

“Me.”

Molly’s eyes went wide.  “What?”

“One assumes that you aren’t interested in my brother for his personality because he doesn’t have much of one,” Sherlock replied bluntly.  “Aesthetically he does hold certain advantages over me.  Height.  Hair.  His choice of dress if that’s your sort of thing.  When it comes to intellect and talent, however, which I assume is his biggest draw, you’ll find that we are evenly matched.  Points in my favour include a much warmer demeanour and a genuine interest in you outside of your talents in the morgue. One that supersedes the limits of a typical friendship.”

Molly was at a loss for words.  She hadn't been on the receiving end of such a declaration since…well…ever.  The last man to show interest in her had been Jim, but of course she knew now that it was only a ploy to gain access to Sherlock.  She didn’t think Sherlock would use her, but she couldn’t help feeling like if she took him up on his offer, she’d be using him.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he said suddenly.  “And I have no qualms with being your rebound lover.  You need to get back on the proverbial horse and I’d be honoured to serve as your lead pony in that regard.”

“Lover?” The word tumbled out of her mouth ungracefully.

“Yes,” he answered simply.  “It’s clear that you have gone quite some time without the touch of another person, though I can tell that you have managed on your own.”  Molly whimpered softly and buried her face in her hands.  “Don’t despair.  It’s a perfectly natural tendency and the sign of a healthy sexual appetite.”

“Oh God!”

“Not quite,” Sherlock retorted.  “But thus far, I haven’t had any complaints.  If you were to take me up on my offer, I think you’ll find that the art of deduction is very well suited to matters of the flesh,” he told her casually.  “That and my years playing the violin have aided in improving my dexterity.”

Molly moved her hands to her cheeks and looked at him with a blank expression.  “Why did you bring me to a pub?”

“Neutral ground,” Sherlock said.  “Reduces the pressure of decision making,” he reasoned.  “Also, there are stronger sources of alcohol.”

“You wanted to get me pissed so you could ask for a shag?”

“I don’t ask women for sex.  I simply express an interest and leave the final decision in their hands,” he said opening his palms to her.

“I…”  Molly couldn’t speak.  She didn’t know what to say.  She liked Sherlock, but she wasn’t sure that she fancied him.  Not that affection and sex were concordant, but still it was a huge leap to make.

She wanted Sherlock.  Not this one, she wanted _her_ Sherlock.  But as his brother had so bluntly pointed out, the odds were against her.  They were called crushes for a reason.  They usually left you wrecked.

But was it so wrong to have hope?  To dream?  Dreams were wonderful and beautiful and anything could happen.  They couldn’t last forever though.  Was it time for Molly to wake up?  She wasn’t sure.

“You don’t have to decide now,” Sherlock told her seriously.  “If you choose to take me up on my offer, we could schedule a rendezvous at your convenience.  Your comfort is paramount.”

“Yes,” Molly said softly.

“Yes?”

“Yes,” she repeated.

“Alright.”  Sherlock nodded.  “When would be beneficial for you?”

“Now,” Molly answered quickly.  ‘Before I come to my senses,’ she added silently.

“Keen,” Sherlock commented.  “I can appreciate that.”  He tied his scarf back on.  “It’s been awhile for me as well.”

Molly stood up.  “I have ground rules.”

Sherlock nodded.  “Name your terms.”

Molly led the way outside of the pub.  The cool air took away some of the heat from her cheeks.  “I don’t want to date you and this won’t be a regular thing,” she declared firmly.  “It’s just…sex.”

“One off.  Doable.  Anything else?”

“This stays between us,” Molly listed next.  “Sherlock can’t know.”

“You have my word that I won’t go out of my way to verbally reveal our liaison to my brother,” Sherlock conceded.  “I can’t promise that he won’t deduce it though.  You’re quite easy to read.”

Molly knew he was right.  Sherlock would definitely be able to tell something had happened.  The question was would he care?  A small part of her wondered if it would make him jealous, but she quickly buried the thought.  She wasn’t that person.  She also wasn’t the type to have random one night stands, but Sherlock had presented his case in such a logical way that she felt inclined to go along with it.  And it had been a long time.  Better it be Sherlock, who could see her worth, than some pissed wanker from the pub that would never ring afterwards.

“I’ll tell him myself,” Molly insisted.  “Eventually.”

“Fair enough.”

“One more thing.”  Molly paused and faced him.  Sherlock mirrored her movement.  “Could you?  Just once…as a test…”

Sherlock didn’t wait for her to finish.  He read her mind once again and moved in close.  He pressed his lips to her.  The first she had felt in a depressingly long time.  Firm but gentle.  No tongue.  Not lustful or predatory.  There were no tingles or electricity.  It warm and strangely comforting, like well-worn jumper on a chilly day.  That was what this Sherlock was.  He was a mate and source of comfort.  This time it was just comfort of a different sort.

Molly could do this.  Moreover, she _wanted_ to do this.  For just this one night, she’d be spontaneous.  He might not have been the Sherlock she wanted, but he was the one she had and she was grateful.  Tonight, the pathologist didn’t want to be lonely.


End file.
